


A Variorum

by still_intrepid



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angst, Crack, F/F, Fluff, Gen, Has Fanart, Human AU, M/M, Magical Girls, Nationverse, Nyotalia, Pianist Poland, Pianist!Poland
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-23
Updated: 2018-02-20
Packaged: 2018-03-14 18:29:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 7,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3421091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/still_intrepid/pseuds/still_intrepid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Because, how do I ship them?   Just <em>every which way there is</em>.  As friends, as lovers; fluffily, tragically, bitterly, crackily; by default, by the force of destiny; happily, unhappily, full of understanding and misunderstandings; for better or for worse, for always.</p><p>Drabbles and short pieces.  Original Hetalia-verse, Nyotalia and AUs, with guest appearances from other characters.</p><p>New chapter: "Silence" for lietpolweek 2018</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Miles Away

**Author's Note:**

> Most of these were originally posted on tumblr, but I wanted to tidy them up and put them all in one place :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for America sensing the mood :)

Lithuania finally worked up the courage to ask something that had been bothering him.  

"Mr. America, why do you have a calendar with all these pictures of cats?"

"Oh, yeah, that’s from England… it’s a kind of long running joke we have going.  I think."

Lithuania flicked through the pages.  By the picture of the feline Mr June (a white cat lounging atop an improbably photogenic pile of laundry) there was a sort of poem.

He read:

> _Cats sleep anywhere, any table, any chair._   
> _Top of piano, window-ledge, in the middle, on the edge._   
>  _Open draw, empty shoe, anybody’s lap will do._   
> _…_

"That reminds me of Poland," he said without thinking.

America’s forehead wrinkled.  “Cats?”

"Sleeping anywhere."

(Anywhere.  Sometimes curled up like a cat, sometimes sprawled out inelegant.  Especially when he was supposed to be working.  In those cases, nigh impossible to wake.  Always carelessly beautiful.)

"Hey, dreamer…"  

Lithuania started; America was waving a hand back and forth in front of his face.  

"You were miles away."

_Yes._

"Ah... I’m sorry."

"Dude, nix the apologies already.  You miss him, right?"

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Cats sleep anywhere (Eleanor Farjeon)](http://www.catquotes.com/catssleepanywhere.htm).
> 
> Precisely what England and America’s joke with cats and/or stupid birthday presents is I don’t know.... Maybe you could write it!


	2. Dressed-up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> modern-day girl!version Poland and Lithuania, written before the new designs appeared.

When Lithuania emerges from her room, Poland is in already in the hall, making use of the full-length mirror.  (Ever since they ceased to be ubiquitous, Poland has had a yen for shirts with big sleeves, or “Floofy shirts!!” as she has been known to yell in a public shopping centre, “why would these _ever_ stop being a thing??”)  In tall boots there is something of the cavalry officer about her again, hair neat and tied half-back with a green ribbon.  

”Wow, Poland, you look so elegant.”

"Thank yooou."  Poland twists around again to examine her rear view.  "Um, I guess I can work with that …"

"Hm?  What’s wrong with elegant?"

"Nah, nothing!  I mean I was going for, like, _dashing_ , you know, but yeah.”

"Dashing, then."

"Yeah?"

"Definitely."

Poland glows.  “Yeah, and check the heels on these babies?  I’m like—” she marches up importantly to stand in front of Lithuania, “… _still_ not as tall you, really?” 

Lithuania shakes her head, laughing.  “Po, how are you still surprised by this?  It’s not like either of us has grown in a while…”

"This is true.  Oh hey, and you look so nice too.  I love that dress."

"You helped me pick it, remember?"

"Nyah, that’s what I _mean_.” Poland sticks her tongue out.  “Mm, but seriously, totally radiant, and stuff.”

Poland really likes watching Liet in her moments of burgeoning self-confidence, like now when she shakes out her hair and smoothes the green silk over her hips, catching her own conspiratorial wink in the mirror.  

"Yeah," says Poland, "we are hot stuff alright."

"Very dashing," Lithuania agrees. 

"Yeah!  Dashing!  Oooh, wait a minute."  Poland scurries back into her room.

\- and emerges a little later sporting an eyeliner moustache and designer stubble.

With skill born of long practice, Lithuania keeps her face carefully neutral.  

"I based it on that guy in the film, you know?" Poland explains blithely and nonspecifically.  "What do you think?"

"Uh, it’s very…  Well, definitely… "

Poland grins wider and wider, looking expectant, until… she bursts into giggles.

"Okay, I’m not serious, Liiiet.  You know we have a _meal_ at this thing?  No way this would survive and also apparently women eat some stupid quantity of makeup per year, although probably not me, but yeah that would mean I’m not very immune so I am very much _not_ eating all this eyeliner.”

"Ohh.  Alright then." Lithuania shakes her head.  _Why_ is she still surprised at this.

Poland shoots her a rakish look for about one and half seconds before laughing again.  “…I love that you _totally would have let me,_ though.”

She skips into the bathroom to wash.

* * *

**OMAKE**

"Poland?" Lithuania knocks on the bathroom door.  "Are you nearly ready?  I think we’re pushing "fashionably" late now."

"Yeah, nearly… hang on…"

The door opens, and Poland sticks her head out, looking harrassed and still partially bearded.  “Um.  Where’s your makeup remover?  This is way more difficult than it should be.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... we can totally write about things other than clothes with Poland and with their nyo versions, but it's one thing~ Anyway, as Poland (and I) would point out, this out could be men’s or women’s clothes actually: you just have more flexibility these days.


	3. Uni AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A uni AU!

Toris has been looking at some older books from deep in the reference-only Stores for his mildly obscure research project (he’s only an undergraduate, but very keen.)  He finds himself entertained by the running arguments going on in pencilled annotations. The first commenter is mostly kind of pretentious and annoying, but then other handwritings chip in, and there’s one in particular…  Toris finds himself chasing through pages for that voice _—_ and it crops up a lot _—_ because he agrees with every word they say, even if he’d never have the nerve—and to write in a library book!  but still…

Then he finds a lined page of scribbled notes in the same handwriting _—_ it’s all stream-of-consciousness, funny, good-hearted he just _knows_ , and a little insecure and despairing about deadlines, and he certainly knows that feeling, and he might be a little in love, or something.

But this must have been decades ago.  These books stopped being remotely current a long while back.  And it’s silly to feel sad about something like this.

* * *

They’re supposed to be reference only, but he asks if he could possibly take a few books out for a bit.  The assistant on duty doesn’t know so gets his supervisor who ums and ahs and then notices the titles of the books in question.

"You’re the second person to ask me about those!  Although the other…  I think he was more interested in what people had been writing in the margins over the years.  Terribly naughty, of course, to write in library books, but some quite entertaining, he showed me…"

Toris flicks to page 24.  “Yes, I found them!  I _—_ I mean, obviously, defacing a library book _—_ I mean I would never _—_ but it is funny…”

The librarian glances over, then her eyebrows shoot up past her horn-rimmed spectacles.  “ _—that one’s new!!_   Well I never, the naughty boy!”

Toris’ heart thumps.  _When.  When was this_?  He tries not to scrutinize the librarian too obviously.  She’s vaguely ancient.  It could still have been ages and ages ago.

Then the junior assistant, who can’t be out of his twenties, says, “Oh!  Yeah I remember him!  I was shadowing, it was my first week here.”

* * *

Toris asks his professor next tutorial, subtle as he can.

"So, um, have there been any other students who focussed on this area, in the last few years?  At the library they mentioned someone taking out the same books as me…"

"Well… yes, there was Feliks Łukasciewicz, for his Research Masters a couple years ago.  I think he did very well—In fact, you might find his paper of interest, I can see if there’s a copy."

"Th-thank you," Toris stammers, and gabbles out the next bit before he loses his nerve: "What was his name again—do you have an email address, maybe I could get in touch—"

His professor thinks, _Now that’s the kind of proactivity I rarely see even in postgrads_ , and directs Toris to the alumni office.

* * *

They meet up in a coffee shop.

So, yes, Feliks is of course pretty sharp and all.  On the other hand, he has been _engaging in arguments in library books with people from fifty years ago_ , so Toris should have expected him to be a little… offbeat, too.

They talk about their work.  For a bit.  Then they just talk.

Toris says he’d nearly chickened out of sending that email, because wasn’t it a bit weird, and you this sophisticated twenty-something with two degrees…

Feliks admits in pretty short order that he’d been a little terrified to meet up, expecting Toris to be really scarily serious and studious— _not that you’re not totally smart like clearly you are!_ —and very sure that he wasn’t going to match up to any expectations, he’s not at all “grown-up”, seriously he just made stuff up as he went along…

…It turns out, they get along just great.


	4. drawing blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> bring the angst.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a sad LietPol headcanon: by the 20th C they know each other so well but have been apart so much that they know how to hurt each other with pinpoint accuracy, but they no longer comprehend _how much it will hurt._

"—You know what, Liet? Shut up.  Just, I know you had it tough and all, but you weren’t the only one."

"I _had it tough?_ Do you have _any_ —”

"Yes, I do, actually!  And, like?  No one made you forget—just because you were too weak to hold on to who are—well, who you _were_ …”

 _Weak.  You’re weak._ There’s the punch to the gut.  The suffocating onslaught of memories.  _So much better for you to stop this silly pretence._   He can’t breathe.

"Maybe I’d rather be weak than cruel, Poland," he chokes out, and Poland just looks bored.

"…O-kay.  Well."  Poland sighs and stretches his arms out till his shoulders click.  "Whatever.  Look, since I came all the way out here, let’s just decide things already—you know, like grown-ups—and call it a day."

"No."

"What?"

"No.  I’m saying: forget it.  Just forget it.  Next time you get yourself in trouble, don’t expect any help from me."

A fractional hesitation. 

"As if?" Poland scoffs, but his brow works confusedly. "Why would… Like I ever wanted your help anyway.”


	5. The Rivals

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Emma](http://field-poppies.tumblr.com/) instigated this and [Lana](http://lanas-aphrontistery.tumblr.com/) encouraged me. ... I really can't abnegate responsibility though ;;
> 
> Uh. Suggestive content?

Lithuania stopped on the second-last stair.  He’d only been gone a few minutes, but maybe he should have known better than to leave the two of them alone together because that was definitely the sound of raised voices from the room in which he had left Poland and Austria.

“I can’t take him anywhere…” he lamented complacently to himself, walking over to the parlour door, ready to apologize for whatever it was Poland had done this time.

It was at that moment he heard clearly the actual words.  He paused at the door.

“You have no right,” Austria was shouting, “to talk about her in such a way, when you have been _gone_ for a hundred years!  I have been here every day with her!”

“Well, like if I were her I’d sure want a _change_ after all this time!  You’re all show, but no _passion_.  She deserves soo much better.”

Hungary?  Were they talking about Hungary?  In such a very odd and proprietorial way? 

“And _you_ would presume to impugn my skills?”

“Uh, yeah, I presume!”

 _Skills?_   Oh, help, this was getting more and more awkward.  And personal.  Seriously time to intervene.  Lithuania reached for the door handle.

“I’ll have you know that my fingering technique is praised across the continent and beyond!” Austria shrieked.

Lithuania sprang back three feet from the door as if it had suddenly grown teeth.

“Pffff yeah,” Poland was sneering in reply.  “Like, only from silly people who don’t know better.  _My_ touch is totally delicate, but firm at all the right moments.”

Well, alright, Lithuania could vouch for that, but— _that wasn’t the point!_   And why was Poland  _talking_ about this?  With Austria??  And who were they arguing about???  And—

“…Well,” said Austria at length.  “Much as it pains me to let you anywhere near her, I suppose we should settle this once and for all with a simple trial.  One after the other we shall exert ourselves to arouse the sweetest music in her.”

To arouse the—a _trial_ — _one after the other—_ in _public_??  Lithuania’s head was swimming.

“Okay.  _Fine_ ,” said Poland, in his resigned-but-determined voice.  Then, in a brighter tone.  “I’ll get Liet.  I heard him outside the door a bit ago.”

Lithuania looked frantically for somewhere to hide but it was too late.

“Liet! Why were you being all slow?  We need you to judge a thing.”

Austria breathed heavily through his nose.  “Hardly the most impartial judge,” he said. “Nevertheless I believe my superior skill will out.  Lithuania, please listen carefully and decide which of can make her produce the most pleasing sound.”

“Here?” Lithuania quavered.  “N-now?”

“No time like the present!” Poland said cheerfully, “I’ll start.” 

And he bounded past Austria to sit down at the piano.

The _piano_.

The PIANO.

Lithuania collapsed against a sideboard.  “Couldn’t you just… play a duet, or something?” he suggested feebly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What IS THIS I DON’T EVEN. also, what language are they even speaking i have no idea, I think Klavier in German is a neuter noun soo idk how it works.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Lindsey](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Lindz) requested firefighter AU, but I don't know much on the specifics of the fighting fires side of it, so....

 

"Hey so do you know about these Trauma Teddy things?"  Feliks swung his rucksack onto a kitchen chair and waved a flyer in Toris’ face.

Toris blinked up at him over his Weetabix.  “Hello to you too.”

"Hello."  Feliks leaned over and kissed him lightly on the cheek.  "Anyway?  I was at the Christmas Tree thing the other day and there was a stall with all these old ladies and apparently they knit these square teddies and they said the emergency services use them, and I just found the bit of paper, so is that a thing?"

"Mmm, yeah."  Toris nodded.  "We have a bunch in the station, for children.  They’re all donated, it’s a sort of community project."

"Okay, yeah," said Feliks, sitting down without missing a beat, "that’s cool but, _trauma teddies?_   Do you like hand them to the kid and say ‘I’m sorry your house is burned down, have a trauma teddy?’”

Toris frowned.  “No, no one _says_ that.  You don’t really need to explain the concept of a teddy bear to a child…”

"Oh, well that’s okay then."  He paused, flicked a crumb across the table.  "Um.  Sorry, I wasn’t meaning to, like, denigrate anything, it was just the name."

"It’s fine.  But, you know, it’s… pretty bad sometimes, for those kids."

Feliks was quiet for a few moments as Toris ate another mouthful of Weetabix.

"So I was thinking I might go along to the teddy making sessions," Feliks suddenly added.  "Old people are cool.  And maybe it gives me something to keep from stressing when you’re on nights."

Toris glanced quickly up at him. “…Do you even knit?”

"Mm, crochet."

He laughed.  “I don’t know when you’re serious sometimes, even when my sleep patterns aren’t back-to-front.”

"Totally serious.  I mean, I used to crochet, is it like riding a bike? My babci taught me, and I looked up the website and they have crochet patterns too."

"Sounds good.  I think you should give it a try, as long as you leave enough time for study."

"Yeeees, duh.  …Plus,I get to show off to all the old ladies about my gorgeous firefighter boyfriend."


	7. every word

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Day 2 of [LietPol Week](http://lietpolweek.tumblr.com/): Lithuania's Birthday.
> 
> I'm imagining the nyo girls here but it's not made entirely clear, so :)

 

"Hello?"

"Hey, it’s me, HAPPY BIRTHDAYYY!"

"Hi Poland!  Thank you!"

"Did you get my card?"

"Yes, it’s lovely, I’ll just go get it."

"Cool!  Uh, no, you don’t need to go get it now, why are you doing that??"

"So that I can look at it… I put the cards up in the other room, just a moment…"

"—Soooo did you get any nice presents?"

"Yes, quite a few things actually — I need to be careful or the house will be full again, and I’ve just got it cleared out!  Here, I have your card…"

"Don’t read it out!!"

"Why not?  There’s no one here…  and you wrote it.  What you said — it was really sweet.  I really appreciate it."

" … oh yeah.  Like, that."

"I was… very touched, truly."

"Ah, okay."

"…"

"…"

"Poland?  You’ve gone all quiet."

"Yeah, heh, sorry — I’m glad you liked the card!"

"I did… so, what’s the matter?"

"Ah, come _on_ , Liet, you know I don’t _do_ sappy writing so like.  Well, as long as you’re not totally embarrassed, I guess.   I mean I meant every word.  So, did you get any nice presents??   And you’d better mention my present—”

"—there’s just one thing though, in the card…."

"Oh? Ugh, okay…"

"…’ _Liet-Babe_ ’?”

"OH!  That!  Yeah!!  Do you like it? I made your cute name cuter!"

"…the cuteness quotient has definitely increased, no arguments there…"

"Is it okay?  I was trying to think of more things to call you.  Liet-Babe.  Babe-Liet.  No, that doesn’t work.  Hmm.  Liet-Liet.  Babe-babe.  Liet-Liet-babe."

"Okay now stop!  You sound like you’re reciting declensions."

"Nah, that’d be like… Liet-Babe.  Liet-Babe’s.  Liet-Babe-stop-laughing-at-me."

"Haha, that one’s new…"

"I’m trying to get used to it, so we need to use it a lot!  Is it okay for this to be my new name for you?"

"Ah… is there any way I’m going to stop you?"

"Oh.  Do you actually want me not to?"

"…No, it’s okay.  Does this mean I need to think up a new name for you?"

"You should!  Like—"

"No no, you don’t choose, that’s the whole point!"

"Ohhhh yeah.  Well.  Give me my new cute name when I see you tomorrow!"

"Yeowch, pressure!"

"You _thrive_ under pressure.”

"Uh.  Sort of."

"… I can’t wait to see you."

"I can’t wait to see you.  Thanks for calling."

"Like, of course!  Ugh, I do gotta go though…"

"I should too.  Okay.  I’ll see you soon."

"See you!!  Bye!  Happy birthday, Liet-Babe!"


	8. oh, vision of brightness!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nyotalia. 
> 
> About Poland's flower crown.

That Lithuania should set the garland on her head was just one out of Poland’s head full of bright ideas and dancing lights.  It was ritual, it meant something.  

She kissed her forehead and crowned her with flowers.

*

The way Lithuania remembers it, Poland wore flowers every day after that, even when they rode to war.  A pansy tucked behind her ear winked out just as she lowered her visor.  (At tourneys, they wore each other’s favours.)

*

It wasn’t crushed red petals in the bootprints in the snow that other day; it was just blood.

*

There was an old dream.  At the dimmest midnight of the bleakest winter of her own captivity, Lithuania would dream the door open and Poland there, holding high a light.  Or Poland with her arms full of flowers, crowned with splendour, bringing back the spring.

*

It is 194 _x_ , and Lithuania suffers, and dreams again of Poland.  Poland who can no longer answer her calls.  Dreams: Poland strung up and suffocating, her eyes full of death.  

They made her a crown of barbed wire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Birdy drew a beautiful art based on this!](http://real-smug-caryatid.tumblr.com/post/119632366262/about-that-flower-crown-doodle-request-for)


	9. two miserable people meeting at a wedding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This AU, ahaha. Requested for a meme by [sparklingdali](http://archiveofourown.org/users/sparklingdali/pseuds/sparklingdali/) on tumblr. Aaaand it's the nyo girls again because I'm very obsessed with them.

The music was working its way into cheesy 90s nostalgia, at obscene volume.  Ruta was not dancing.  She hovered a moment by the bar, then catching a glimpse of one of the uncles threatening to swoop, pretended to have seen something very interesting and jogged over to the other side of the room.  

She felt like she was eight years old again and spending all of lunch break walking up and down the hard-court alone and pretending to be enjoying it.  She had been doing this for what felt like ten hours.  She sorely regretted the directional high heels.

In desperation, she headed over to where a few tables and chairs had pushed against the wall.  A young woman she didn’t know, with bobbed blonde hair and wearing a vibrantly fuchsia dress, had been sitting there almost since the dancing started.  She had her phone out and was ostensibly texting intently, but Ruta knew from experience that there was no signal.

“Is this seat…?” she began lamely.

“Knock yourself out,” said the girl.

Ruta sat down.

“I’m Ruta, by the way.”

“Oh.  Hi.”

“…What’s your name?”

“Felicja.”  She was still looking down, but had stopped pretending to use her phone.

“How do you know the—”

“From school.”

“So…” Ruta kneaded her clutch in her lap.  “What do you do?”

It was only supposed to be small-talk, but Felicja _exploded_.  

“What do I _do_?  Um, I breathe, I eat, I sleep approx six hours a night, I make small origami shiruken and throw them at people who annoy me?  Oh, you mean what do I do for a _job_ , assuming I have one and that I want to talk about it because this is the number one thing we define people by? What if I’m a porn star, where does the conversation go?  Or like, no, I’m a bin-collector, shall we talk about that?  I’m a fruit-picker!  I’m a lion-tamer!  Why the fuck does everyone _care_ so much??  Oh, right, they don’t, they just want to know they can safely ignore you because you don’t have a boring _proper job!_ ”

“Sorry.  Forget I asked.  Um.  Are you… feeling alright?”

“Yes!  Yes I’m fine! You just got me at a really bad time. I’m totally peachy!  What? _You’re_ the one who’s been making the loop back and forth from your table to the ladies to the bar without buying anything and then pretending you’ve seen someone across the room, rinse and repeat.”

Ruta blinked, astonished.  “—have you been _spying_ on me?”

“We’re kind of in a public place?  It’s not spying, it’s just _looking_.”

“No, but, I mean—”

“I’m bored!!” Felicja almost screamed, but by now the music was thumping very loudly indeed.  “The only person I even knew was the bride and now they’ve all gone off and I’m stuck here because my train isn’t until midnight and I’m not hanging around the station in this.”  She fluffed her gauzy pink skirts.  “Oh, yeah, and it was like a five hour journey to get here in the first place and basically this day’s been hell.  And I spent so much on this stupid dress because… wedding, right?  And, I don’t know, some stupid thing like you’re supposed to _meet people_ at weddings?  That’s the biggest lie!  They sat me with all the random miscellaneous old friends at dinner and I didn’t have a thing to say because they’re all these high achieving like doctors and lawyers and stuff—”

“I’m a lawyer,” Ruta put in, for some reason.

“You _SEE_?” Felicja demanded despairingly, as if this capped it all, and thumped her head on the table.

“Uh—o-kay, don’t do that—”  Ruta stood up and hovered over the prone form of the girl in the pink dress.  She tapped her on the shoulder. “Are you dead?”

Felicja glared up and blew her hair out of her face.  “No, worst luck.”  She pouted.  “Anyway. What’s _your_ problem?”

“I don’t have a ‘problem’.”

“I mean, why the loner-ish circuits, why aren’t you hobnobbing with all the other fancy lawyer types?”

“Ah…” Ruta looked awkward. “Well, I don’t really know the miscellaneous friends table.”

“Who _do_ you know then?”

“Um.”  She rubbed her neck and looked around.  “Quite a lot of people actually.  Family. That’s sort of the reason… why I’m not talking to them.  It’s awkward.”

“Ohhhhhhh.”

Ruta waited.

“Well, I totally won’t ask then.”

That was a surprise.  

“Thanks.”

“What, you think I’m totally insensitive and stuff?”

“No—but, I mean, you seem pretty… uninhibited?”

She burst out into loud ugly laughter.  “…hooo boy.  That’s, that’s hilarious, that is so not true normally, I am the most like hibited person you could get.  Wait. Hibited.  No, that would mean the same thing.  Inhibited.  Is a word.  What am I saying.  Heh.  Inebriated.” She looked Ruta squarely in the eye. “I’ve hardly drunk a thing actually, but we can pretend, you know?”

“Why?” Ruta asked, heart suddenly in her mouth as she added, “Do you plan on doing something… really scandalous?”  (What?  If a shy person could simply _act_ … hibited … on a whim, _why not do it_?)

Felicja smiled wide; it was a nice smile.  “That’s the spirit.  I mean.  Weddings. Hey, this is Meeting People, right?  We’re never going to meet again and stuff, so… so it doesn’t really matter what crap I say.”

Something had switched up.  A Moment had opened.  The words ‘ _Are we really never going to meet again?’_ suddenly, intensely, inappropriately, nearly shot out of Ruta’s mouth so fast she had to clamp it shut.  She wasn’t quite that uninhibited yet.  The sentence ‘ _Keep talking, this is the most fun_ _I’ve_ _had all day_ ’ next presented itself as a possible candidate.  

“—I really like your dress,” she said instead, with such extreme earnestness that it could never be mistaken for small-talk.


	10. summer clothes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A nyo!lietpol sketch.

Liet’s hair is long and she’s very proud of it.  Even though, seriously, she only knows how to do maybe two-and-a-half things with it.  Poland was so very amused when the “messy side-braid” became such a ubiquity on catwalks and magazine covers the world over; Liet has been maintaining that look for half a millennium.  

Poland can hardly remember what it was like having to brush your hair out like _carefully_ in _sections_ , starting from a couple inches from the bottom, all these actual knots.  Short her way is much easier, although she’s letting it grow out a little for the approximately six days a year when it’s _so hot_ you need to restrain _all_ the hair, every bit of it, out of your face.

Like today.

But Poland will forever prefer too hot to too cold, decides she must be solar-powered like a cat, and this excess is anyway an excuse to drag Liet out to buy the ice cream she very suddenly and very keenly requires.  

Caught a glimpse of her own reflection in the window of a parked car and thought, _hey, not bad_.  (Most of the year she normally wears this top for _underwear_ but it’s perfectly decent; she only wondered if people might stare or comment, which made her determined to wear it.  Anyway she totally has no cleavage to speak of, if that’s what people are so worried about.  But it’s a cute vest top.  It has Charmander on it.  From, like, the actual 90s.)  Takes another look in the next window and she likes how it shows off her back in particular, or just that part with the shoulder-blades visible.  A bit of skin — the top isn’t that fitted there, inch-wide t-shirt material white cotton gapping out a little at the back.  At the nape of her neck her hair wisps out of the looped ponytail/top-knot it’s just long enough to pull into. 

It’s a ‘relaxed’ look, right?   _Hey-Liet-do-ya-think-i’m-sexy?_  (She probably _does_ , oh boy, that’s the best thing.)

(No bra, cos, like, who has time for that stuff, or money for that stuff, or — let’s be real here — _boobs_ for that stuff?  Maybe some people but not her!  Actually, she happens to know that Liet doesn’t always wear a bra these days necessarily either, though she’s bigger.  A couple years back Poland was waving around a newspaper: “Hey look at this research France did, not wearing bras is officially _better_ , it says so in _science_.”  Maybe that was what did it, a bit later on: gave Liet permission to be ~improper~ again once in a while, when it’s high summer at least.  Anyway, well, remember before bras were a thing?  And it’s like, it’s not the 14th century and we’re not riding into battle, there is literally no need to wear freakin’ constrictive _armour_.  It’s not the 18th either: corsets are strictly fancy-dress these days.  (And, okay, that is a stunning look on Liet, but right now it’s far too boiling to even think about that.)

Poland admires herself and thinks, my arms aren’t half bad either, you know?  Just a little muscle outlined makes her think about exercising a bit more, maybe going climbing, maybe in the evenings.  

And everything going a little brown in the sun.  Earlier they did the sunscreen thing.  ( _can you get my back? / there, that okay?_  It’s cool and soft and smooth, her open palms, and basically the thing is you never normally pay much attention to your back.  So maybe that’s why it’s still a kind of funny kind of nice sensation, even though — how many times must they have done this over the years?  Enough times that scars are only scars, for one thing.)

Anyway _Liet_ is wearing a dress and it’s _short_ and her legs are long and before they left she turned back and forth in front of the mirror and said, “Do you think this is okay?”

Poland waved up and down at her own _totally classy and coordinated_ outfit.  (It’s like a teenage boy’s running top or something, and stretchy shorts that honest-to-goodness have a _drawstring._ )

“You look _great_ , dude.  I’m the one who’s like, waah 12-year-old going on Scout camp!”

(No but really she thinks she looks good.  Today she can think that.  Maybe, “”“effortlessly cute”“”, or something, if that’s not inappropriate for however old she is now.  Well it’s summer and they’re on a mission for ice cream, everything looks good today.  Normally she fusses and throws six pieces at least of clothing around her room before she can leave the house, but it’s _summer_ , and oh the sweet sweaty freedom!)

Liet’s about half a head taller than Poland, all shoes being equal, and today it’s flat strappy gold sandals that might leave some interesting tan-lines but look just the right balance of classy and casual.

“You look great.  We’re gonna walk around turning heads and making everyone jealous, seriously.”

And… weh, sort of.  But really, she thinks, _everyone_ out in the city is looking great: the kids who’ve tried way hard with their outfits, or the ones that merely threw on Giant Sunglasses to redeem anything, the tourists with rucksacks and big grins, the not-so-young women with tattoos and leathery skin bleached hair and bikini tops bellies and belly-rings they’re having a great time; you can spot a few sock-sandal combos and is it not utterly _charming_ that people still do this despite everything??  You innocent rebel spirits you.  Seems like it’s just too hot to be self-conscious.

Liet is wearing a thin cotton dress that’s blue with lots of tiny flowers on it, the kind of kitschy cute florals from fifty years ago in England that are being reclaimed by the Youth of Today.  (And these eternal 19-year-olds, where do they fit in?  'What the fashionable immortal is wearing this season’, who knows.)  Lithuania buys new clothes and gets rid of old ones, sensible-like, on the whole.  Though she doesn’t _always_ get rid of the old familiars and it’s like, _Liet, that jacket has elbows so worn down they’re shiny, and also it’s_ themost 80s thing, _where did you even_ buy _that_ —  _actually, you should keep it, it’s hilarious_.  Also, lately she has been impulse buying dresses whenever she visits new cities, and out of summer she hardly even _wears_ dresses, so it’s good that she is today.  This one is probably a cheapy retro-style one from the last London trip but it’s incredibly cute.

( _Retro_ , hey, there’s a fun concept!  Or, _vintage_ — they should all be well set up for any trend coming back round from the past 500 years!  Only it hasn’t quite worked out for everyone of course — a girl could get quite envious of those nations still possessed of wardrobes stuffed with classic pieces from every era by virtue of not having to flee their homes and lose all their earthly goods on a fairly regular basis…  Oh, never mind.  Someone once said to Poland that she was as much a hoarder as any dragon, she’d probably never have got around to having a good clear out without someone marching in (literally) and leaving her no choice.)

Liet’s dress has fluttery cap sleeves and tiny buttons all down, which are being pulled and strained a bit at the front because she does have these shoulders on her as well as the breasts, but again Poland just thinks that’s nice.  It’s the kind of effect they’d intentionally design and customize costumes for in a movie — see Lithuania really is that woman who doesn’t wear make up and doesn’t know fashion and doesn’t even do her _eyebrows_ and doesn’t know that she’s lovely but she is.  That’s a cliché, whatever.  Poland does her eyebrows when she remembers and _then_ feels able to choose the scruffy scrappy clothes.  

It’s Summer.

And it’s nice how everyone is so relaxed in their 'ridiculous-if-you-think-about-it-but-you-don’t’ clothes, and not really concentrating on each other — Poland’s not really concentrating on _them_ either.  She’s sneaking sideways glances at Liet and thinking about how nice they look together, and no one’s watching.


	11. Iron Wolf

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> space opera au (well, more small-scale like Firefly!) for basketofnovas on [tumblr](http://nyolietpol.co.vu/post/124786409605/lietpol-space-opera-au)

“Feliks, is that you??  What are you doing in the engines?”

“Just some stuff. You needed upgrades so I upgraded you.  All set now.”

“Wh-what?  Get out of there!”

“Okay, chill, I’m out.  Um.  So now we can fly fast, if you can fly fast— _can_ you fly fast, I mean are you any good, I can pilot if you need…”

“This is my ship! And it doesn't—didn't—need upgrades!  We took you on as a _passenger_.  And we don’t need to go anywhere _fast_ , what are you—”

“Really?  Check your fancy little screens again.  Are those guys friends of yours?”

“… Right.” _Beep_.  “Attention all personnel.  Prepare for _immediate_ departure.”

“Do you need me to—?”

“No.”

“But I’m good—”

“I’m better. Thank you.  But just, please, shut up.  And—hold on tight to something.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Toris' ship's name, of course.)


	12. Make a wish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> nyo!lietpol with super magical powers!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The context, such as it is... They have been transported to some magical land/dream-scape, and some mysterious being has granted one wish each for a magical power to help them in their quest.

“Have you decided what you’re going to wish for?”

“Yeah,” said Poland.  “I think so.  Hooo, okay.”  She took a deep breath. “Are you kinda nervous now?  I mean it’s probably fine.  I’m kinda nervous, shall I go first, get it over with?”

“Okay, if you want to,” Lithuania agreed, secretly relieved.

“Right, so…” Poland fished her amulet out of her pocket.  “Do I just…?”  She clasped both hands tightly around it and bowed her head, eyes squeezed closed like a child praying.  

A moment passed. Poland opened one eye then the other then dropped her hands to her sides.

“Nothing’s happening…” Lithuania said.

“Yeah…” Poland pouted.  “Well, maybe I…” She broke off as a sudden violent shudder ran through her.  “Okay, whoa! Okay, something’s happening!!” Her eyes widened in shock.  “Oh no! Liet!  Quick, take off my shirt!!”

“What?!”

“My _shirt—_ I can’t _—_ ” Poland tried to unbutton her blouse herself but was interrupted by another whole-body tremor. “Owww, Liet please!!”

“A-alright…”

“Hurry!”

“Are you okay??” Lithuania asked, distressed.  It didn’t feel quite right to be removing Poland’s clothes while she was groaning and writhing like an eel in apparent pain. “What’s the matter, where does it hurt?”

“It doesn't— _ahhh_ —hurt, just, like—like I need to—ack!—stretch all over?”  She wriggled her arms  and Lithuania pulled the shirt off behind her.  “Like when you’ve been awake for ages and—ahh—you feel all stretchy and kinda sexy like—Oh my God Liet _quick_ , my bra!”

“ _What??_ ”

“Noo no, not like that!” Poland giggled breathlessly. “Just seriously oww _hurry u_ _p!!_ ”

“Okay, okay, fine!” Lithuania snapped, and reached around to unhook Poland’s bra.  She briefly closed her eyes for decency but the combination of that and Poland’s squirming was _intensely_ impractical.  It felt very strange to be effectively embracing her semi-naked and shouting friend, outside, on an open hillside in the middle of nowhere in a strange land.  “Poland, what is going on here??”

The actual moment came with the requisite blinding flash of light, and a thump as Poland fell over.  Lithuania instinctively shielded her face.

Blinking rapidly as spots danced across her vision, she bent down to give Poland a hand up—and her mouth dropped open.

(Later on, she would laugh and tease Poland about just how very _classical_ , how exactly like something out of stained-glass, were the aesthetics of her wish.  But in that moment she felt all the sense of awe that those old images were supposed to represent.)

Poland stood up straight and wings: wide, white and feathered, lanced from her shoulders.

Lithuania had the chivalrous urge for a second to offer Poland her jacket to cover herself, but in the next instant was ashamed of the thought.  Poland wasn’t some stripped girl in need of modesty; she was a splendid incarnation of purpose and power, more than fit to be attempted in marble, glowing skin and blazing eyes, a very angel in blue jeans.

She’d helped Poland to feet and now she almost felt like kneeling herself.

“ _Wow_.”

Poland’s smile was just as bright as the dazzling white of her wings.  “Hey, it worked!  …I just didn’t want, like, rip my shirt all off, like a werewolf,” she explained.  “I’ll think about clothes later.  Now, how do I…”  She frowned intently, wriggled her shoulders—then came a rush of air so strong it nearly knocked Lithuania off her feet.  “….Oh, _nice_.”  

She took off running, and then with a hop, skip, triple jump, wings beating the air, Poland took to the sky.

* * *

“NEEEEEEEOWWWWWWW pew-pew-pew-pew!!”

Poland zoomed back and forth across the sky, now pointing her arms over her head like a diver and making jet-fighter noises.

(If Lithuania had had to guess her choice of powers, it would have been this or some sort of flame-throwing ability, after all.  Wings seemed a better, and less accidentally destructive, option.)

“WATCH THIS, LIET!” she shouted.

“I’m watching!!”

“I’M GONNA DO A LOOP-THE-LOOP!”

“Okay!”

“HERE I GO!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!”

“ _ARE YOU ALRIGHT?_ ”

Poland hung in the air flapping madly for a moment.  “Phew, OKAY, that’s more complicated…  Gonna try it again!!”

(She was wearing now an improvised bandeau made from her shirt—“ _I suppose on principl_ _e_ _I should just not care about wearing things, but for one thing it’s_ cold _up there!”_ )

Lithuania shielded her eyes again and squinted upwards as Poland got the hang of looping.

“Come down a minute!” Lithuania yelled.

“Aww, why?” Poland shouted back, and tried a double loop.

“So you can see what I wish for!!”

“Oh yeah!!”

A moment later Poland touched down, running a few ungainly steps before she got her balance back.  “Need to work on my landings,” she said happily.

“Is that exhausting?” Lithuania asked.

“It’s _awesome_. Okay, so what’s your wish??”

Lithuania smiled and bit her lip.  “I’ll give you three guesses.”

“Ohhhhkay, I think I only need one.  Ohh my gosh Liet, alright then, go for it!”

“Right…” Lithuania took out her amulet.  

_I wish…_

“Wait!” Poland said.  “Do _you_ need to take your clothes off?”

“I don’t think so… I tried to make that part of my wish…”

“Wow, that’s so sensible!”

“Well, I hope it works, we’ll soon—ahhhh! I think this… is it!”

Lithuania experienced the change like intense warmth, like an afternoon of sun in a single moment.  

And when she looked around from her new vantage point a foot off the ground she was pleased to see her that her clothes had apparently magically changed with her.

Nearby Poland was squealing delightedly with her hands over her mouth.

“Ahh, you’re so cute!!”

“Grrroww,” said Lithuania, _I’m a fearsome ancient predator, not cute_.

“Yes you are _too._ Can I…?”

Lithuania padded over, tail wagging happily, and nuzzled Poland’s hand.  Then she wandered around to investigate what wings smelt like.

“Cuuute!! Right!  Let’s get questing!!”  

“Wuff.”

“I think that’s a yes?  And I’m guessing you can change back if you want to?”

“Wuff!”

“But if you run and I fly, that’ll be quicker, won’t it?”

Lithuania tried nodding.  It wasn’t very wolf-like, but it was efficient for communicating with humans, and also quieter which might be useful.

Poland picked up Lithuania’s amulet from the ground and pocketed it for safe-keeping, and they set off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love those winged!Po pictures! I'm not sure I've seen anything written about that -- and I wanted to try writing something where _only nice things happen_ to Poland (and Lithuania, in fact!) because, um, I basically never do that ;;;
> 
> **Look look look![hinotorihime on tumblr drew art for this fic!!](http://hinotorihime.tumblr.com/post/133161174405/nyolietpol-magical-powers-1000-words)**


	13. Moving in

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a.... p o e m (??) about comfort.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For [lietpolweek](http://lietpolweek.tumblr.com) 2017 day 7 "Comfort"

> When it turned night in the forest, and your breathing   
>  And your heartbeat were all my hymn and anthem;  
>  When you raised my hand to comb your stubbly gold hair  
>  And laughed, _bottle brush!_ , at your former glory,  
>  And your piecework pride, so I could smile too; when you,  
>  Later, held me, sobbing into your sweater,  
>  For hours, and lilted old Lithuanian songs,  
>  Then was our trust and understanding beyond words.   
>  I remember this, and other more distant whens:  
>  When amidst the sheared stalks we pledged never to break faith—  
>  And even though we did, your prodigal love is  
>  Indulgent and necessary to me as music.   
>  I unclasp my hand from the handle of my suitcase.  
>  Your heart’s my home, harbour, fortress, fields of promise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _prodigal:_ referencing the parable of the son who ungratefully left his family and later returned, or, literally: having or giving something on a lavish scale


	14. Silence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for the Silence theme of lietpolweek 2018!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two sides to the lietpol—the unbearably tragic-heroic, and the interpersonal small complicated things. Sometimes Poland gets anxious too and there’s no fighting or snarking your way out of that one.

_He knows this about himself; he either flares up or folds up, he takes some kind of offensive or - or what? … He says, “I seem to know all forms of attack. But I seem to know no forms of defence at all.”_

\- from A Place of Greater Safety, by Hilary Mantel

* * *

 

I. 

Poland’s half-frozen but he can barely feel the cold. He’s bound with cords wrists and ankles but powerless? As if! He’s a powder-keg at the least, or some modern kinds of chemicals under intense pressure—

They think he’s going to shut up? They think he’s scared of a little blood? (Well certainly not his own!— _GET YOUR DAMN HANDS OFF HIM._ Ukraine once teased them: It’s romantic and all, but where will it get you, both diving in front of the stroke meant for the other? This, _this_ is where, in the end—)

Alright so he’s terrified but all the more reason he’s no way going quietly.  

_lock me up, stuff my mouth with rags and lies you will not silence the singing in my veins, the anvil of my heart forging our revenge!_

it’s a love-song, it’s a work-song, it’s a marching tune, _Liet we’re getting out of here they’ll never hold us—_

* * *

 

And that was real.

And so too is this: 

* * *

 

II.

Poland has been avoiding the piano all day and when he finally sits down to it everything sounds wrong. He can’t get through a page. He can’t stand the sound of a single interval. Without meaning to he has his fingers in his mouth and bites the nails compulsively, all the way down.  

No the clock isn’t a problem, actually. He often falls asleep listening to it. He wants to crawl back to bed right now, but another, another hour slips by without him even trying it. Trying anything. All his muscles begin to ache.

Liet doesn’t answer the phone the first time. Poland hangs up after a couple rings anyway. Liet is probably more stressed and busy than he is. Poland’s trying to be supportive at the moment, that’s a whole thing he’s doing…

Lithuania rings him back later and his heart leaps painfully, “ _Hi!!!_ ” 

“Hey, Poland, did you call?”

“Yeah! Just to say hi!”

“Oh! Well it’s really nice to hear your voice.”

“How are you doing?!”

Lithuania sighs. “Alright. I don’t know how my boss expects me to get through all this, but that’s nothing new.”

“Ahhh,” says Poland in what he hopes is a sympathetic tone. “Maybe you should, like, have _words_ with him!”

“I wish.”

“You’ll be okay, you can do it!!”

“Mmm… thanks, Po.”

“So…”

Silence.

“Liet? You okay?”

“What? Oh, yes, I’m just reading over these papers for a meeting." 

"Oh…” says Poland. "Ahh, do you want me to call back?“

"No no, it’s fine, you can stay on.”

Silence.

“Oh, okay.”

 _He_ can’t read. He can’t do anything except try and slow his painful breathing. His fingers are freezing on the phone. 

“Liet…?” 

* * *

Later Liet says, he didn’t realise. I didn’t know, Poland, I’m sorry—you sounded so cheery! Poland says, well he feels silly now, because now it’s alright again.  

And… he doesn’t like to think of himself as the one to be inscrutable, not-up-front, waiting for someone else to guess and ask the right question, blaming other people for not knowing what they’re doing wrong. He’s not _like_ that. Is he?

“Can we talk about… well, talking?” Poland asks.

“Yes!” Liet says, “Yes I want us to be able to talk to each other like that.”

Rush of relief, and though they’re still not quite sure how to proceed, how to manoeuvre here, proceed they do, carefully.  

Military metaphors seem rather appropriate: Of all the campaigns, this winning of the peace between them seems by far the most complex.

But the victory they win together slowly will be the sweetest.


End file.
